Won cases, lost causes
by Out of Custody
Summary: Spencer is baffled by Hermione - short drabble in eight parts (M because I think the show deserves it)


**I've watched them all - Criminal Minds was like a high for me and I couldn't get off it until there wasn't any more to watch. And Spencer and Hermione... clicked in my mind! **

**So enjoy this short something ;)**

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**I.**

"Are you for real? Cereals?"

Bent above the case folders, her feet were pulled up, left knee supporting her chin, her right knee falling down to lie on the seat. Her hair was a riot that day, as it usually was, bouncing off her shoulders in wild curls, framing her gentle face in abundance, her amber eyes peeking through what was a veritable curtain of hair.

"Yes?" she almost asked, crunching through the cereals still in her mouth. "What's wrong with cereals?"

He shook his head, trying valiantly to find a concrete answer. As usually when in the presence of the woman, he failed – his mind came up blank even when he sought a reason why he asked her. But then, she took over already.

"Did you know that the enzyme lactase that is needed to break down the milk-sugar, the lactose, is increasingly less produced with maturity due to lack of consumption?" she smiled at him. "Basically we are all potentially lactose-intolerant."

Reid's brow furrowed further. "Then why are you eating it at all?"

She shrugged. "Because I like it."

There was something to be said about Hermione Granger, something additionally confusing than there was to 'usual' women. Shaking his head, he left for his bull-pen on his eternal quest for coffee.

Hotch, having watched the exchange, neared the young woman. "Do you have to play him so?" he asked worried – she only smiled.

"If you can't convince them, confuse them, is what they say."

Hotch shook his head.

**II.**

"What do you mean, magic?"

Morgan was not surprised that Reid had a few select troubles believing the young woman standing in their midst. After all, Doctor Spencer Reid was Mister Numbers, Facts and Atheism impersonated.

But, it appeared that the witch had heard the question rather often… that or she had asked it herself.

"In my opinion every person has the possibility to do magic – everyone has 'innate magic'. It's inherent, you all have the potential. _But_ only a few, by what cause ever – I suspect a certain anomaly in the brain – several people have the ability to access energy circulating around them."

"I don't get it." Garcia admitted. "I've no idea about the whole energy stuff talk… It's freaking alien to me."

The young woman bit her lip, trying to come up with something else. "Well…", she stated finally. "Everything is made up of energy right? Made up of protons, electrons, neutrons." The group nodded. "So, that is the energy available to us. _Air_ is made out of energy. So what I am trying to say is that 'magical people' have a twist in their brain that allows them to metaphysically access those energy-particles and… use them."

"Like what?" Morgan asked.

"Like… this." She pointed a stick – her _wand_ – at his cup. "_Calidus._" And, burnt, he almost dropped the scalding coffee in his hand. Penelope, right next to him, watched the steam re-emerge from the cup, smelling the mellow scent.

He could see that she suddenly felt the need to prove herself – to prove her magic, her credibility And they all knew that, to do so, they needed to convince Spencer Reid.

"_Aquamenti._" She filled the glass in front of him with water, she transformed one of their weapons into a rabbit, she turned the ceiling pink, changed her clothes, her hair, her language, she even pointed her wand at Prentiss and Garcia and the two relished when their clothes turned and changed, evolving into luxurious Gala dresses.

"It's… impossible." Reid said in his dry voice.

The witch shook her head. "Improbable, Doctor Reid, but not impossible" she quoted Sherlock Holmes.

**III.**

"She's… weird." He said softly, trying to concentrate on the photographs in front of him.

"Weird?" Derek asked smiling. Hell, Reid was weird if he was of the opinion that a girl was weird then there was something going on with her. Or them. "I never knew that you'd describe a person with that particular word."

"Well…" the younger man pursed his lips, "I mean… she's eating strangely."

"Eating strangely?" he parroted. Honestly? Why did he have to repeat everything? But then… why did Reid have to act so strangely today?

"She's practically carrying her cereal bowl everywhere, spaghetti are eaten raw, she eats steamed vegetables with honey, sugary dumplings… She eats so much of it and she doesn't get heavier. Apparently she doesn't even suffer Sugar Rushes or get sick. And… and she's always so… I don't know…"

Morgan smiled, shaking his head amicably. He knew he should not hope where Reid was concerned, because as sweet and awesome as the boy and one day perhaps even a grown up man (and Morgan _knew_ he had potential) he also had potential to well… to do things not too well and _fuck things up_ – royally.

He loved Reid – like a brother, honestly because the boy was much like his opposite – he got flustered around women, he knew more statistics from the top of his head than he himself had ever _read_ and he was… well, he was strong, yes, but it was not the physical kind of strength that Derek displayed. It was a quiet strength, an … innocent strength. Strength like children showed them when no one would believe they had some.

It did take a unique character to come clean of dialaudid within weeks, after he'd been shot it nearly every day. Derek knew, contrary to the rest of the crew, that Reid, even though he _had_ the vials – and still possessed them – he never fell back. Morgan circled him for months, like a vulture. But he never fell back, Morgan knew – because a month later, the young man could carry short sleeves without needing to cover up jack.

"You like her…" Morgan sang amusedly.

"I… don't."

But deny it as he might. Morgan knew that Spencer Reid paid close attention to Hermione Granger.

**IV.**

The case, as most of them, was gruesome – children mutilated and dead, cut into pieces, torn apart, bloodied. Spencer opted to do more of a research and support than really go out into the field – Hermione understood. If she wouldn't have made him uncomfortable or compromised the case she would have asked to stay back as well – children _always_ got to her without fail.

As it was, the case _did_ get to her.

Spencer noticed. He was observant like that. Endless hours spent bent over cases and restless nights staring at their mission board.

It was during one of those nights that Spencer Reid approached her with a cup of coffee, sitting down next to her.

"Of all the things I constantly see… children always… get to me." The man admitted, taking a sip of his coffee – his hands shaking. Hermione nodded.

"Where I come from, we had… we had a war. Children were at the front, we were recruited. I've… known people who never recovered. I'm not sure I did. There is… something so innocent in a child that should forever be protected."

"The Lakota say that everything needs to be done in harmony…"

"… and nothing or no one should harm the children." Hermione finished. "Yes I know. I have met a few Chiefs on my way here… It was… a privilege."

**V.**

"The Green Arrow is a much better marks-man than Hawkeye could ever be." The woman argued heatedly, crunching on a handful of popcorn.

Morgan, next to his girlfriend, smirked, stealing a pretzel from his beloved. The blonde noticed, but the swat on his hand was playful and friendly. The team had met up for a film-night and Morgan and Reid had won the last round of poker so 'Avengers' it was.

It appeared though that Miss Hermione Granger, had a major disagreement with the Doctor.

"That does not make any sense. Ah… Clint Barton was accepted into the Avengers, the Green Arrow hasn't been."

"Well, Mister Super-Smart that's because the Arrow is already in the Justice League."

Reid looked contrite.

"But… But… Well alright. And what about their upbringing? I mean Barton was clearly _raised_ to be a master marksman. Arrow was, technically, just a millionaire with a hobby and a sidekick."

The witch shook her head – again. "Not precisely. In contrast to Barton at least Queen has concrete beliefs – heactively _sees_ the bigger picture, while Barton focuses solely on one thing, he not only stays with that he doesn't want to see anything more than that."

"She got you, pretty boy." Morgan smirked.

Spencer pulled his mouth aside and… after a little silence finally sighed. "Yes… yes she did. I never noticed just how hard it can be to not be right… it's very… unnerving."

The darker man barked out a laugh. "_That_, Reid, is how we have felt about you all the time."

"But," Garcia smiled, "We still love you."

"I should hope so." The Doctor said. "After all, I'm the human computer…"

**VI.**

"He is too organised for a psychotic disorder."

"But then how does he mange to kill his victims? How come we do not yet have any clue on his method?"

When she arrived she looked even more dishevelled – Spencer's mouth though, continued to open and close continuously, never emitting a sound. And Morgan knew why.

Because, as dishevelled as she might have looked, the kid looked right good. Her ripped and faded jeans, the red-golden soccer-jersey as well as her even more than usual frizzy hair she looked like more of a fighter than usually. It was very… attractive.

"I'm sorry I'm late. But I can tell you what you don't know.", she excused herself, combing through her hair – it turned out even frizzier.

"Are those… electrical currents in your hair?" Reid asked finally, very softly.

"Ah… Umm… magical currents, yes." The witch blushed. "I… have been meeting with Magical Law Enforcement. Our UnSub is a wizard."

**VII.**

"You honestly do not want that one." She said coolly to the UnSub, who was currently holding Doctor Reid hostage, a wand digging into his throat.

"And how would you know?" the UnSub spat, tugging him harder on his hair – but to Spencer's credit, he did not even make a sound.

"Jesus, please, _look_ at him!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were taking up lost causes!" It didn't fit with the profile, of course. He was attacking women between twenty and thirty, brown eyes, blonde hair (why always the blondes though). "First of he's not even female."

"He looks the part though." The UnSub countered.

"Yeah well… his wardrobe has always been lacking somewhat." She retorted, her plan was working she sensed it. Reid had an idea of what she was doing and was very prettily shutting his mouth, saying nothing. "He's not blonde though."

"But he has the brown eyes. And I love them brown eyes."

Yes, she'd realized, after all he'd make sure to really, really make them pretty with eye-liner and mascara post-mortem, he actually brought out their most beautiful features… if he wouldn't kill them first.

Hermione sighed aggravated. "Honestly, take a look at him. That sorry excuse for a man is limping on a cane like a hundred-year-old – and it's a parrot-head-cane if I might draw your attention to that particular detail – and he's wearing blue-orange striped socks today beneath an attire that screams 'I haven't left the seventies since I was born in them'." She called. "I don't know what would scream social loser any more than that!"

And then she had her opening – their UnSub was hesitating, stepping back shortly from the Doctor, inspecting, loosening his grip enough that the man could duck out of harm's way.

With a quick _Stupefy_ it was done.

Morgan and Hotch moved in seamlessly to contain the UnSub, while Hermione, lowering her wand, neared her colleague, having difficulties standing up without his cane. He accepted her offered hand without much thought, allowing himself to lean against her as she supported him.

"I didn't know you kept tabs on my socks." He said quietly.

"Yeah, well I didn't know Mary Poppins would turn up at a funeral with pink-purple-striped socks. It knocked me so far of my rocker I've checked for new combinations every day." She looked up at him, smiling with mischief. "I wonder, Doctor Reid, if that isn't the only thing you don't disappoint in."

**VIII.**

For the first time, he did not feel stumped when it came to human interaction.

Later he would blame it on the adrenaline rush in his blood (but even after that particular incident he got an awful lot better at the art of innuendo) but for the first time in his life a woman coming on to him in a very, very direct manner did not throw him off kilter.

In fact, he rather enjoyed it. He smirked back.

"Well, Miss Granger, you will just have to check, won't you? I've heard you have rather the history with lost causes."

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**Review please :)  
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